Dark Souls: Penitence
by whatever you feel like man
Summary: Most would kill a beast without a second thought. There is one amongst them who diverges from this path. This one dared to strive for repentance. Not through mystical means, but through his own actions. On his path to penitence he will find friends and enemies, life and knowledge, and of course... Death.
1. The Real Beginning

**I've wanted to write something for Dark Souls for a while now. If you've played that game, than you know what kind of heavy shit it throws at you (literally and story-wise). There are so many different and unique story lines riddled throughout the game, but it never really goes in depth into any of them. This is just one of the ways I saw my character reacting to this situation.**

Dark Souls: Penitence

Chapter 1

The Real Beginning

The Pilgrim watched as the fiery abomination perished and faded into oblivion. Walking over to the ground where it had once stood, he gave his condolences. Destructive as she may have been Quelaag seemed sentient, and killing those who still had some semblance of their sanity always felt wrong in some way.

'_That does not excuse the fact that she tried to kill you.' _He hated it when this side of him came out.

'_Even so! She is different from the demons and hollows I have slain in the past! If I were to act so uncaring about a sentient being's death, it would make me no better than my hollowed piers!' _These arguments always played out the same way. He was beginning to grow tired of it.

'_You are foolish… The only important task is to survive. Such petty actions like this will only bring you more trouble. Remember that with each death you are one step closer to the hollows you despise so much.'_

'_Being an emotionless killing machine is no better.' _It seemed that he had no response to that. Both sides were right in a sense, although he had sympathy for his fallen brethren, feeling bad for them would only cause him more trouble in the end. It was these kinds of arguments that made him hate himself.

Maybe being imprisoned inside the Undead Asylum for what seemed like an eternity had caused more damage to his mind than he had originally assumed…

Disregarding that train of thought, he carefully collected the soul of Quelaag. Once it was in his hands, he felt it being absorbed into his darksign. He had not used it, merely stashed it away for later. He had found out about this little skill shortly after arriving at Firelink Shrine, and it had been invaluable to him for a number of reasons.

One of which was being his ability to carry more than one humanity. They were a valuable commodity, and one that was not easily come across. At the moment he was the proud owner of seven, and what he had to go through to get a hold of them was precisely the reason why they were so valuable. The souls of his fallen opponents, such as the one he had just acquired, were also quite useful at times. Though he had yet to find a useful purpose for most of them.

Moving to pick his reward up had also reminded him of his recent battle. It had been his win, but not by much, and the slight movement made him painfully aware of the damage he had taken.

He sighed and drank from the flask that had saved him so many times before. Immediately a warm and soothing sensation filled him, and his burns and gashes made from her sword healed and closed, for the most part. He was still partially injured, and he knew that he would need to find a new bonfire quickly. It was only after he had finished it that he realized it had been his last one. The weight of his armor seemed to grow heavier, and his arms weaker. He hoped that this supposed bell was not much further. He couldn't take much more punishment. He may be undead, but that didn't mean dying didn't hurt like hell.

The glint on his left hand also reminded him of something else. The 'Old Witch's Ring', as a rude and nearly hollowed merchant had appraised it. It had been with him from the start. He remembered being in that Asylum and just staring at it for days, weeks even. He hadn't known where he had gotten it. It had always just … been there. Apparently it was quite valuable.

Once he had heard that his opponent would be a Chaos Witch, he had hoped wearing it in battle would give him some kind of edge. It did nothing to help in his battle, however it did somehow make him able to understand what she had been saying. She was in a rage however, and the only intelligible words he got from all of the yelling were things like 'stay away from her' and 'you must die'. The second one he partly understood because they were trying to kill each other. The first threw him for a loop. Who was she? Why must he stay away? Maybe she had been holding someone hostage. Perhaps in her delusions she had given the bell a gender?

All the ring did was make him able to understand one witch. Fat load of good that did him, the fact that he could understand her did not make up for the fact that she was very fond of murdering people. He angrily took it off and shoved it into his pouch around his waist. It was home to many trinkets he had found in his travels. He put his inquiries to the back of his mind. His main priority should be finding a bonfire. He was running out of steam, and a nice long rest would surely be good for him.

Shield raised, he headed towards the small set of stairs that he hoped would lead him to his goal. The stairs narrowed into a corridor, and once again opened into a room. He cautiously entered; ready for any kind of surprise attack this cruel land saw fit to throw at him. The shield was soon lowered however when he spotted a large rusted church bell hanging from the center.

'_YES! Finally! With the bell finally rang I can get out of this accursed pit and get back up to safety of the Shrine! And there are no giant spider witches to deal with up there! Finally this nightmare can be over with._

All the hesitation was replaced with joy as he merrily skipped towards the lever. He was sure to carefully avoid the large pit in the center. Having to come all this way only to be stopped by his own stupidity did not sound like such a good plan to him. Coming up to the large lever that he assumed would ring the bell, he grabbed it and pulled with all his might. The heavy sound of gears turning was soon replaced by the sound of the bell beginning its first gong.

It was a truly beautiful sound to be sure. He shut his eyes and let the soothing melody (at least in his mind) be cast over him. All of his frustration, anger, and fear seemed to disappear. Washed away by the hypnotizing sound of the gongs. They seemed to resonate and amplify, carrying their sound not only to the denizens of Blighttown, but through all of Lordran. It was so incredibly loud he was almost positive that his companions he had found along his travels could hear it at Firelink Shrine.

All too soon however the bell stopped and he was pulled from his euphoric musings and thrust back into the dark and desolate world he had been in.

_'No! I want to hear it again! It was wonderful! Please bring it back! _He tried in vain to pull the lever again. Unfortunately it seemed to be completely stuck in its current position.

_'Get a hold of yourself you fool! It is obviously not going to ring again. _He let go of the lever and slumped his shoulders. Of course he know this, but it never hurt anybody to try.

_'Now stop being a weakling and proceed forward. I'm sure you can find something to heal you further ahead.'_

Seeing the wisdom in his words the Pilgrim begrudgingly stepped away from the lever and got his sword and shield at the ready. After looking around the room for any possible loot or secret passageways he headed towards the spiral stairs heading downward. He walked rather casually. Partly admiring the scenery outside, and partly because of his exhaustion setting in.

'_Fiery death and destruction sure are beautiful.' _Eventually the stairs ended, and he came across a circular room filled with what looked like large overgrown egg-sacks. '_Oh Lords,'_ he thought, _'I really hope none of these hatch, that would be a real pain to deal with… No! I have to remain optimistic; else I loose myself to doubt and fear. Like that annoying fellow I met at the shrine. Seriously, does that guy ever smile?'_

'_You're getting off topic you idiot! Focus on the task at hand.'_

Oh right! Finding something to heal himself! He looked around at his options of where he could go. It seemed the only way besides going the way he came was the narrow corridor that looked like it hadn't been part of the original design. It seemed to have been forcefully inserted into the wall. Many bricks and debris lay scattered around it. This did not seem promising. Not only that, but he could see a faint red light emanating from inside.

Option number one was out, but it seemed as though that was his only way. Then he remembered something that he had witnessed while exploring the bowls of Darkroot Garden.

-Flashback-

_He had just stumbled across a giant door, which seemed to be sealed by some sort of magic. To his right he could see a narrow break in the wall, no doubt leading to some nefarious trap. He had learned from experience that dark narrow passageways never ended well._

_He was also incredibly pissed about it. _

_Now usually he was not a very talkative person. Far from it, but when he was alone he could let his frustrations out with confidence._

"_This is ridiculous! Absolutely maddening! I come all this way through this dark and dank forest and what do I find? A locked door and an obvious trap! This is just my luck! I haven't seen even a hint of a bonfire since Andre! I won't be able to survive much longer! Why am I even going on such a silly quest?! I've no idea where I'm even headed!"_

_By this point the Pilgrim was almost seething at the mouth. He started to see red, and began to take his frustration out on the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a wall. Gripping his sword tightly in his hands, he swung with all his might. He expected to hear the satisfying clink of his sword making contact with brick, what he got was not what he was expecting._

_Instead of the wall holding fast, it dissipated immediately, and his momentum sent him stumbling forward, and downward._

_Hitting the ground with a rather painful thud, he shot back up with sword in hand, seeking the invisible enemy that was able to knock him down. He found no one, and realized with amazement that the wall must have been some kind of illusionary spell. After gathering his bearings he looked down and saw something that made the pain from falling drift away._

_There, sitting nice and proper was an unlit bonfire. At first he wondered what in the world it was being hidden for, but he never was one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So instead of being curious he lit the fire, sat down, and enjoyed a well deserved nap for his troubles._

_Shortly afterwards, he was killed by a giant butterfly._

-End flashback-

Perhaps this was one of those times. After all it never hurt to try. He took his sword in his hand and started to lightly tap it along the walls of the room, or at least the walls that weren't covered with large egg sacks. There was no sense in blindly swinging his blade; after all he didn't want a repeat of the last time this had happened. Eventually he came to section of the wall that was slightly indented into the otherwise circular room. It didn't look any different than any other section of the wall, but he supposed that it was worth a shot. Taking his sword, he lightly tapped on the crumbling bricks that made up the wall. It disintegrated as soon as the metal had made contact with the stone, and the sword kept going.

He smiled, happy that he had remembered his experience with these things. His smile quickly dropped when he was able to look past it. He saw the familiar orange glow of a bonfire down the path; it was not this that had made him on edge though. It was the creature immediately in front of it. With sword drawn, and shield in hand he slowly crept forward, ready to run or fight at a moments notice. As he got closer and closer he was able to make out more detail in the strange figure. He looked like a malnourished man. It was the thing he was carrying on his back however that made the Pilgrim suspicious. This thing had grotesque eggs, similar to the ones lining the walls, sprouting from his back. They had grown so large that they had become too much for him to walk, as he was sitting there on his hands and knees, not able to stand any longer. He looked up at the Pilgrim with a scrutinizing gaze, as if sizing up a potential gift.

The Pilgrim steadily by cautiously proceeded, and jumped a little when the strange being began to speak to him.

"Oh dear … what have we here? Are you a new servant?" He sounded surprisingly civilized, and the Pilgrim was taken back by his sudden question. He thought for a moment. What would get him into this room quicker?

After a moment of hesitation, the Pilgrim nodded his head.

"Hmph. But you have no eggs?" The creature sounded suspicious, and the Pilgrim subconsciously reached for the hilt of his sword.

"Bah. No matter. Go along and have an audience with Our Fair Lady. I pray that you will mind your manners!" The strange creature turned around and started to awkwardly waddle out of his way. He lowered his hand with relief and let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. He quickly made a break for the bonfire, not paying attention to his surroundings or what the creature had just said. He lit it, and collapsed beside it. The healing mist soon rose up and enveloped him, concealing anything outside of it. He must have been more tired than he thought to collapse this quickly. The Estus Flask may be able to heal physical wounds, but mental exhaustion was not something he could simply drink away, and a good rest at a bonfire would definitely help in his recovery. Finally being able to rest for a while, he drifted into a peaceful slumber next to the warm fire, not even remotely aware that something may be in the room with him.

He awoke several hours later to the sound of shifting limbs. His mind was muggy and slow as he blearily sat up and looked around for the noise that had so rudely awoken him. He saw the strange creature from before sitting silently in the corner, staring at him expectantly. What did it want?

He soon realized the strange noise was not coming from his deformed friend, but somewhere behind him. The pilgrim turned with a little force with an annoyed glint in his eye, ready to send a death glare to the thing that had halted his rest. What he saw chilled him to the core.

A woman sat there, not three meters away. She was hauntingly beautiful, with long silky white hair. Her head was bowed slightly and her skin seemed ghostly pale. Unhealthily so. Her eyes were closed and her face was soft and kind, with a small smile gracing her lips. He also realized with a bit of a blush, that she was naked. Her hands were crossed over her chest, so there was no risk in seeing something he should not be seeing. Her fingernails were abnormally long and sharp. Her body was rather shapely, he noticed. And her tantalizing chest led to a smooth stomach and beautiful hips, and from there to-

His slightly inappropriate train of thought ended abruptly there, and in it's place an intense feeling of dread. Her hips, instead of leading into legs, seemed to be haphazardly morphed into the body of a large, disgusting, and intimidating spider. It's body and legs took up about half of the room. How he had not notice before was a mystery. After recovering from the initial shock, he scrambled to his feet and fumbled for his sword and shield. All the while trying to keep an eye on the thing sitting before him.

Its head flicked up at the sound of his movement, and he stilled.

It,_ 'her'_ he supposed, began to move its mouth. As though she was speaking, calling out, and yet he could not understand what she was saying. He lowered his weapon slightly after deducting that he was not in any immediate danger. The more she tried to speak the more distressed she seemed. Her small smile faded, and her face switched from beautifully calm to concern. She still tried to speak, although still nothing came out, or at least nothing he could understand.

'_The Old Witch's Ring! Perhaps if I were to wear it I could understand her, like before!' _He fumbled with the small pouch across his waist. '_Honestly there must be a more organized way to carry my things, if I take this long finding one damned ring I might as well be asking to be killed.'_

After an agonizingly long time of awkwardly feeling around in his small pouch, he finally grasped the small ring in his hand, and put it on once again. The moment the piece of metal was around his finger, her silent worries became audible to him.

"Quelaag? My dear sister, why are you silent? Are you unwell?"

He had never heard such a beautiful voice before. It was soothing and beautiful sickly as it may be. She sounded pained, as though speaking was very taxing to her. What interested him however was what she had said.

'_Another Chaos Witch? I had thought that Quelaag was the only one down here. She must be blind, if she cannot see who is in front of her. She seems so ill, what has happened to her?' _

His worse half abruptly butted in. _'What has happened is of no importance to you. No doubt it will try to kill you given the chance. Now is the time to strike, while it is unaware of your presence! Quickly, while it is still confused!_

'_NO! It is easy to see that she is unarmed and sentient. I have already killed one today, I will not kill another.' _His cynical half scoffed in his mind.

'_You do not know what her intentions are! You hesitated when fighting Quelaag, and where did that lead? You were nearly killed. Ending this beast would probably be a kindness anyway. It seems close to it already.' _It seemed as though this side of his mind was growing more assertive. Everyday he found it harder and harder to resist it's heartless and calculating logic.

'_This is not simply a matter of ending the life of a wild abomination! Killing a mindless beast is one thing, but this… this is murder. Quite honestly I'm tired of all of this senseless violence. I may have survived up until this point, but how much longer will I stay sane through all this death and destruction? If I could take the diplomats root at least once, I could at least be assured that my fighting is worth something meaningful in the end.'_

'_You are idiotic; optimism holds no place in this world. To get your hopes up in such a manner will only lead to disappointment.' _The voice in his head started to rise, getting angrier and angrier.

_If you hadn't noticed, you are at the bottom of a giant chasm filled to the brim with venomous monstrosities!' _It shouted with fervor,_ 'To be more specific, you are standing in a giant spider demon's nest, currently facing down the queen of said nest! What good would it do being diplomatic do for you here? You cannot afford to focus on such things. In the end your survival is what matters most, anything else standing in your path is just another obstacle to be slain. You may not know of its intentions, but to end it's life would mean one less question for you to ask yourself. It is a cruel action, but a necessary one.'_

He felt the voice go silent, having said it's piece. The Pilgrim was at odds with himself.

'_Is it really better to have such ideals? To not have to worry about such things as morality and karma would certainly make decisions like this easier. Perhaps it is better that way. Where has being kind gotten me? Hollows do not care if you are kind, nor do the countless demons and black knights I have just barely defeated. Her sister did try to kill me after all, what makes me think she will be different?_

His internal debate was interrupted when he heard the weak voice call out again.

"Quelaag, what is it? Are you all right? Please dear sister, you needn't take care of me so," she sucked in a raspy breath of air before continuing. "I am alright. It is not as bad as usual today."

She stopped talking here, and started to draw a few unsteady breaths. It seemed as though speaking pained her greatly. Hearing her words was all he needed to throw away his previous thinking.

'_What am I saying? She is sickly. To kill such a thing like this would be… despicable. My other half may be speaking some truth but, I cannot think in such ways.'_ He analyzed what she had said a bit more. _'She is talking as if Quelaag took care of her. Is this who Quelaag was referring to when she was shouting that nonsense? But if that were true it would mean that…' _

The realization hit him like Havel's Dragon Tooth.

'_Quelaag was protecting her sister, not the bell. I have… What have I done?' _He fell to his knees, his sword and shield clattering uselessly to his side. _'I have taken away this creature's only way of living. I have killed her caretaker, and doomed her in the process. And I was going to kill her too? Just like that? To murder such a pitiful and defenseless creature, in cold blood no less! Quelaag may have been a witch but … I am the real monster here.' _He held his empty hands in silent horror in front of him.

These hands. They had killed a sane and sentient creature, and in that same moment condemned her sickly sibling.

In the wake of his revelation, Quelaag's sister seemed to build up enough energy to speak once again.

"Sister. I feel I may be … near the end. You must not … worry over me. But … please promise to … care for yourself." If his heart had not broken before, it was completely shattered now. Behind his sturdy helm, he felt tears threatening to break through his previously manly exterior.

'_Get a hold of yourself you blubbering idiot! Current situation aside you cannot allow yourself to sink into such a depression!'_

'_But I have taken apart a family. I have blindly separated two loving sisters, and in my blindness I have doomed both.' _He found himself growing angrier at his worse half. How dare that voice in his head take this crime so lightly?

'_You could not possibly understand, you are an evil half, filled to the brim with dark thoughts. You know nothing of such sorrow!'_

His other half almost sounded offended when he spoke next. _'Despite my nature, I am not as wicked as you think. I am not here to simply plague you with harsh words. I am rationality! Your inner survivalist! The suggestions I present are not to spite you. They are to get you stronger! They help you survive this hell you are experiencing. I have been offering you advice since you started this journey!'_

The Pilgrim paused in his silent sobs. After some thought he realized that the voice was right! This harsh voice in his head was cold and heartless. But it was also the same voice that told him to fight. It was what told him to when to dodge, when to block, and when to strike.

'_I can see now that you are not willing to change your mind from this path. But let me offer one more piece of advice. Get up, stop sobbing, and be a man! Solve the problem that you have created! MAKE IT RIGHT!'_

With this shout the voice grew silent, satisfied that the Pilgrim had finally learned the truth. Slowly he got off his knees, picking up his sword and shield in the process. His tears no longer blurred his vision, and he felt like he could see clearly for the first time in a long while.

He steadily walked towards the being before him. The sickly woman's head quirked up slightly at the sound of his heavy footsteps, and she called out quietly.

"Quelaag? Is that you?" Despite his newfound resolve he did not yet have the heart to tell this poor creature the fate of her sister. He had never been good with words. In fact the longest he had ever spoken was probably about two sentences. And so quietly, almost inaudible, he uttered a single word.

"Yes."

Her face brightened considerably, and the serene smile that had been on her face before returned ten-fold. Her eyes however betrayed her expression, and the worry in her voice was evident.

"Quelaag, you sound … strange, have you been … crying? Please, sister, do not cry. I'm happy, truly. I have you, don't I?" The karma he had received was really coming back to bite him now. Despite his guilt, he nodded. More for himself than her, although she seemed to almost sense his movement, as her face relaxed considerably.

'_What did the creature at the entrance say to me? I was paying more attention to the bonfire in front of me than his words. He had said something about being a new servant. He had also called her something. What had he said? The Gentle Lady? The Good Woman? The … Fair Lady! That was it. _It may not work, but his plan was one of the only ways he could try and redeem himself. Once again his confidence died in his throat, and his words became quiet and meek.

"Please … my Fair Lady … I wish for … A Covenant." This seemed to confuse her; he hoped that he had not said anything suspicious.

"Enter a Covenant, again…?" She seemed to shrug off her confusion. "Of course. Let me try …"

The Pilgrim was thankful that Petrus had shown him how Covenants were performed. He bowed his head slightly in silent prayer, committing himself to her as a loyal servant. At the same time she welcomed him into her peerage with open arms. A warm sensation began emanating from his chest and slowly increased in intensity. It was almost painful by the time it had made its peak. As the slightly unsettling sensation that washed over him drifted away he felt renewed, and slightly better about his situation. Although the burning sensation had gone away, the warm feeling inside his core was still there. It would probably do him good to look into this feeling, and what it could mean.

But now was not the time for him to dwell on such things.

'_With this act of devotion, I am on the path to atone for my sins. But I must not stop here. To truly make up for the crimes that I have committed I must do more for her than this._

"And please, sister. There is no need … for such formal titles. We are family … after all." The guilt was almost unbearable, but he feared that if he were to tell her of her sister's fate, it would absolutely crush her. It may even kill her. He could not tell her the truth, not yet.

Quietly, and trying to keep his voice at a higher pitch than usual he replied once again with his softest tone.

"Of course … sister."

Her face lit up with a large smile after he had said those words.

"Thank you … Quelaag. I know … humanity is rare. To go to such lengths … for me alone … thank you." So his humanity had been what Quelaag was after. She had been giving to her sister for some sort of sustenance. And now, he had eliminated her only means of staying alive.

'_I could at least give her the few humanity I have with me. But this is not a long-term solution. The only way I could think of would be to constantly bring her any humanity I find. What of my quest? I will have to be coming back here for her time and time again. It would become very annoying. But I owe her! I must take responsibility for my actions! I have killed her previous caretaker, now I must take up the mantle.'_

'_To be so ready to give away your life like this,' _there he was. The Pilgrim was beginning to worry for his pessimistic self._ 'Are you sure you wish for this to happen? What of your previous quest?'_

'_I may be able to do both. I have gathered this much humanity going about my previous business; all I have to do is search more thoroughly. Besides, I am undead. I have until the world ends to finish it.'_

With his decision made, he shuffled closer to the woman in front of him. The sound carried to the girls sensitive ears, and she inclined her head in question. The Pilgrim muttered softly.

"Humanity."

Before she could give any kind of answer to his statement, he once again bowed his head in prayer and concentrated. The contents he held inside his darksign appeared in his mind, and he singled out his small collection of humanity from the rest. After separating them, he began to visualize transferring the humanity from himself to her. The energy slowly left his body, and he already began to feel the hollowness that they had left in their wake. He quickly smothered the feeling, and began to pour all of the humanity into here being. It latched on quickly, eager for something to hold onto. The effect it had on her was immediate.

"Ooh!" She seemed surprised. She must have been expecting one or two. Having such an influx of the precious substance must have been a bit of an overload to her.

"Thank you, Quelaag." The relief in her voice was evident. A large burden seemed to have been lifted from her, and he heard her breath a slight sigh of comfort. He felt ecstatic that he could bring his Fair Lady even a miniscule amount of relief, and it only motivated him further to get more for her. He softly spoke his thoughts.

"I will … find more."

Her dejected tone of voice made her opinion of his leaving clear, although she tried to keep her voice as kind as it had been before.

"Goodbye … Quelaag." The sadness in her voice almost made him turn back around. However he had a job to do, he could not dally much longer. Before he could leave he was suddenly stopped by the strange egg-sack creature, which had been sitting obediently in the corner.

"… You, you speak the tongue of the fair lady?" The Pilgrim nodded slightly, "… well, do not be rash with your pride. You have yet to earn my trust. If you try anything funny with our Fair Lady, there will be hell to pay." The creature, which he would later discover was named Eingyi, was dark and menacing when he uttered his final phrase.

Now usually when faced with such a threat the Pilgrim would tread lightly around the speaker and do as he was told. No use getting a potential friend angry. Lords know how valuable friends were here. But he found that the pitiful position this undead was currently in coupled with the fact that he would never hurt his Fair Lady made for a much funnier situation. He had to hold in a bark of laughter as he uttered his only reply.

"I would never." After he had said this he quickly exited the small room and made his way back through the short path. This was not just the start of a new quest he realized; this was the start of an entirely new life.

After carefully watching the strange man depart, Eingyi was almost positive he heard laughter echoing in the distance.

**Well that took a while. And I will definitely go back and revise it if you guys point out any mistakes. Lord knows they're there. Maybe the whole thing is just written badly. In witch case I might just stop. But watevs. Tell me what y'all think.**

**And remember Kids!**

**Comments make the world go round!**


	2. The Fate of this Undead

**I'm back, baby. This one isn't quite as long, but that's to be expected. I guess you could call the first one an introduction. I had to get a lot out of the way there; meeting the Fair Lady was like, the main support for the story, so of course it will be a bit longer. OH! And to answer some questions and concerns regarding the first chapter: I'm going to be putting in a flashback pretty much every chapter. Since I started the story in the middle of the actual game, it is a way to continue to get a feel for what he is like, and the decisions that have led him to the first chapter. To be honest, I'm still working out how he acts and who he is going to be. I'll try to focus more on the 'doing' than explaining things, there's just a couple of things I wanted to get out of the way.**

**I'll try to be more clear on who is talking and what not when he's having discussions with his inner voice, I know that was kind of confusing. I'm still pretty new here, and I haven't yet worked out the kinks in my writing. Also, it's not inherently 'bad'. I'll explain a bit more about what it is in later chapters. Bear with me.**

**His flashbacks also usually have something to do with a problem or conundrum he is having, or they will be progressing and explaining the relationship between him and his inner voice. Also the difficulty-level of different areas of the game is not really a concern. I'm pretty much positive that if it were real it would all be equally dangerous. **

**IMPORTANT: When in real time, thoughts and the Pilgrims internal voice are **_italicized. _**It is the reverse in flashbacks.**

Dark Souls: Penitence

Chapter 2

Fate is What you Make it

Once he was a ways away from the Fair Lady's chamber he began to make plans for his immediate course of action. The best way to do it would be to get back the Firelink as soon as possible. Afterwards he would have to wait for the Fate of the Undead to reveal itself to him, while at the same time gathering any humanity he could get. Within reason of course; he had no intention to start killing the innocent just to redeem himself. That would only call for more redeeming on his part, and he had enough weighing down on him as it was. He searched through his many pouches, and eventually came across a long white brittle bone. These little treasures had saved him on much more than one occasion. But just as he was about to be whisked away, he heard a mocking voice in his head.

_'Hey genius, where do you expect to go to by breaking that bone?' _What a silly question, he would go to Firelink Shrine of course. That was the last place he had rested, wasn't it?

_'No. The last place you rested was in that witch's chambers, breaking that bone would do nothing but give her a startle. And we can't ever give your woman a scare now, can we?'_

"She is not 'my woman'." When he was alone he preferred talking out loud to his Inner Survivalist.

"On the contrary," He replied indignantly. "I am but a servant to her. But you do raise a valid point. Does this really mean I have to backtrack all the way out of here?"

_ 'Of course, there is almost always a way out. Do you remember the elevator in the Parish? And the sewer system, with the annoying merchant girl? There must be a faster way out. The best bet would probably be to look up.'_

He began to cautiously make his way back the way he came. After a short while the swampy depths that lie at the bottom of Blighttown came into view. The shore, he knew, held unseen dangers. He stayed some distance away, crouched behind a large deformed branch jutting form the ground, and began to search. The torches scattered across the muggy underground gave off faint hints of the surrounding area. As he scoured the surrounding area, he noticed a series of faint lights going up the expanse of the wall on the far end of the poisonous lake. With disdain, he realized that he would once again have to cross it to find his way out.

_'Suck it up. I'll guide you through the worst of it. Just do what I say when I say it, and have purple moss at the ready.'_

With this rude remark, he began his trek back to Firelink Shrine.

-LineBreak-

"That was almost more trouble than it was worth."

The Pilgrim had just stepped off the elevator platform that had taken him to Firelink from New Londo Ruins.

_'At least you made it without dying. Now get to the bonfire quickly, knowing you there is a chance you might fall off these cliffs.'_

"I feel crushed by your lack of faith in me. I've made it this far haven't I? Besides, there are stone guardrails along most of the walkways!"

_"You'd find a way."_

For a long time, the Pilgrim had not known what the rude voice inside his head had been. He had seen it as a curse. It was always there, telling him to abandon his morals, to do everything for himself, and only himself. Sometimes he had even been weak enough to give in to these urges that it created in him, and he had been frightened of the destruction he had caused in those times. His revelation inside the Fair Lady's chamber however had given him some perspective.

It taught him a few things, the first being that this voice was a necessary evil, and an unavoidable one. The voice's commands had kept him alive; they had help shape him from a weak undead rotting in an asylum into the Knight in shining armor that he was today. It gave him the winning edge in battle.

He also realized that this voice inside of his head had only ever been himself. He was the one mind making such heartless suggestions, and he was the one crying out against them. They were two sides of the same coin. His kindness and morals occupied one half, and his calculating coldness occupied the other. He could not have made it this far without both. He had accepted this voice as not only a part of himself, but also one of assistance (in it's own way).

It was not just his survival instinct either. It may have been in the beginning, but it had grown to be more than that. It was his only constant companion. It had grown since the Undead Asylum just as he had. He knew it was just a part of himself, yet it felt like a completely separate person. Perhaps their largely contrasting ideals had been the result of his mind trying to save him from loneliness by giving him a companion to speak with.

Whatever the case may be, it was bloody annoying sometimes.

When he had come back from letting his mind wander, he was approaching Firelink Shrine. Everything was as it should be. He could see the downtrodden fellow moping about he could see Griggs sleeping a ways away from the bonfire, and he was sure Laurentius was somewhere among the ruined walls. As he passed by crestfallen warrior, he was stopped.

"You there. Did you ring the second bell?" The Pilgrim nodded slightly, and the man looked surprised.

"That is incredible I must say… But we have a new problem. It's noisy, it snores, and its breath is lethal. This is no laughing matter I tell you."

'_What could it be? Nothing has ever been audacious enough to try and assault the people at Firelink. If it frightened even him, it must have been quite powerful. What should I do?'_

'_We cannot allow such forces to invade this place,' _his other half interjected. _'Firelink is our only assured sanctuary from the monsters outside of its boundaries. It would most likely do you best if you dealt with it in some way.' _With this in mind the Pilgrim offered one quiet but forceful question to the crestfallen warrior.

"Where?"

"In the Church. You aren't actually going to fight it are you? Oh well … your funeral I suppose."

With that, the warrior slumped back into his perch, resuming his bored expression. The Pilgrim began to make his way along the overgrown path to the church. As he grew closer to the entrance he began to hear strange sounds that made him hold his sword in his hand a little tighter. He heard large teeth clicking together, and the sounds one would make when licking their lips for a meal. His instincts told him to run, but he steeled himself, and with a moments hesitation rounded the corner to the entrance of the church.

The water was gone, he noticed. The large open pit in the middle of the church offered the explanation as to why that was. The explanation as to why the pit was opened was also obvious, because it was staring down at him with large menacing red eyes. It was tall, and its body was long, and it stretched into the blackness of the black abyss below it. Its face was stretched back into a permanent snarl, and its teeth and gums were protruding harshly out of its mouth. Even as the monster looked at him with curiosity its mouth did not stop moving. Its teeth were constantly moving up and down, gnashing and grinding together.

The Pilgrim saw it and immediately backtracked back around the corner. He stuck close to the wall on the other side and caught a breath he hadn't known he'd lost. Rarely had something ever frightened him as much as this creature. He jumped in surprise when he heard a low and old voice speak from around the stone wall.

"Why do you hide? Do you believe me to be wicked? I can assure you I am the least of your troubles." Had that been the creature? How could such a wise sounding voice come from that beast?

'_Are you going to just stand there? I had thought you'd have learned not to judge a book by its cover by now. Considering your girlfriend is a spider demon.' _

"Of course I have!" He harshly whispered to himself, "I am not as ignorant as before." As an afterthought he added, "And she's not my girlfriend!"

With this in mind he slowly turned the corner once again, and once again he felt the urge to run away. But he shook it off, and slowly approached the beast. When the beast laid eyes on him once again, it began to speak.

"Ahh, hello." How strange. When it spoke, its mouth did not move to match the words it was saying, it just kept gnawing away at nothing. "Was it you who rang the Bell of Awakening?" This strange quirk unnerved the Pilgrim greatly, but he nodded regardless. The creature smiled, if you could call it that. It was more like its constant snarl curled upwards a bit more than usual.

"I am the Primordial Serpent, Kingseeker Frampt, close friend of the Great Lord Gwyn. Chosen Undead, who has rung the Bell of Awakening. I wish to elucidate your fate. Do you seek enlightenment?" Well that was a rather vague question. He quickly hypothesized the possible meanings behind it.

_' It could be a trap of course, I mustn't rule out such a possibility. But that is probably not it. The old saying talks of knowing my fate when the bells were rung. Perhaps this is the creature that will reveal it to me.'_

The Pilgrim's nod signaled Frampt to continue.

"Very well. Than I am pleased to share. Chosen Undead. Your fate is … to succeed The Great Lord Gwyn. So that you may link the Fire, cast away the Dark, and undo the cures of the Undead. To this end, you must visit Anor Londo, and acquire the Lordvessel."

_'To succeed Lord Gwyn… But, Lord Gwyn is one of the four carriers of the Lord Souls, he is a God! And the most powerful of them all! How could I do such a thing, and what is this about linking a fire? Why must Gwyn be succeeded at all? Why would I be the one to do it? What is the Lordvessel, why is it important to this supposed goal? And Anor Londo… that is the city of the Gods! How could a Human Undead ever reach such a place? This explanation… doesn't explain anything! He didn't even mention anything regarding the Undead! He simply said I was "Chosen". This only raises further questioning! I have been working towards this the entire time? Why?'_

Then he remembered.

-Flashback-

_He was frightened out of his wits right about now._

_ The Prisoner had been cautiously wandering these endless halls of the Asylum for hours now. He had been lucky enough to find a rusty scimitar and a rotting wooden shield on the corpse of a hollowed husk. Now he was lost, he had not seen any sign of the giant demon he had run away from earlier, so at least there's that. But he had also not seen any trace of the strange knight that had given him his key to freedom. He was thankful to the man and had wanted to say so personally. The voice inside of him had said differently. _

'You have your goddamn sword and shield! Now get back in your cell and lock it behind you! End this idiotic adventure! You were not bothered by any demons or insane monsters inside there!'

_"But what of the knight that freed me?" He whispered quietly. No need to alert any unseen threats to his location, he knew that much._

'To Hell with him! He could get clobbered all he wants for all I care.'

_"You're heartless! He saved me from that infernal cage. I have to at least find him! Make sure he knows I am thankful for what he did!"_

_His voice was growing from a whisper to a soft scream, and as he turned a corner he heard a much more menacing scream respond to him. He looked up the stairs he had come across and saw a figure standing atop it. Its eyes glowed an eerie red, and its skin was wrinkled and malnourished, with many cuts that were not closed, but did not bleed. He could almost feel the malice it held towards him as it raised a bow and aimed its sights towards him. _

_The Prisoner panicked. It was about to kill him! He was not trained for this! _(Looking back on it now he might have been trained for such a situation, but an eternity of rotting in a cage muddled ones brain to a certain degree). _He remembered the utensils he had picked up from the corpse, and hastily held up his shield in a sloppy defense. The arrow hit hard, and with such force that he stumbled back slightly. Already the Prisoner could feel his defense faltering, he could not take another hit from it, even with his shield._

'Quickly! Before it can fire another arrow, run at it! You cannot hope to defeat it from a distance!'

_He did not know where this voice had come from, but he was not inclined to disobey. He sprinted up the stairs. As he reached the top, he saw that the hollow had loaded another arrow from its quiver and was about to let it fly._

'Roll past it!' _He did as he was told and tuck and rolled out of the way and past the hollow, the arrow had just barely grazed his helmet._

'Use the momentum! Strike it from behind, before it can react!' _Before it could even turn around, the Prisoner had kept the spinning momentum he had gained from rolling and twirled around, striking the undead once in the back and once more in the neck. His sword struck into the neck and stayed lodged inside. Even as the hollow fell to its knees, the red light fading from its eyes, the sword would not budge._

_The Prisoner stood there awkwardly, and after a moments hesitation used his foot as leverage to tear the sword out of the rotting skin. With the sword came strange sensation, and dim white particles passed from the hollow on the floor to him._

"_I feel… fulfilled. What is this?"_

'You can figure that out later. For now keep moving. You do not know whether this one was alone or not.'

_The corridor at the end of the stairs led into a room. He could see thick bars, and the room they were blocking. It was filled with sunlight, but rubble blocked a part of the room from his view. To his left he found a set of stairs, one going up and one down. Deciding not to go deeper into this maze of cells and insanity, he headed up the stairs. As he was walking up however, he heard a strange rumbling sound. He looked up, and just in time to see a giant boulder rolling towards him._

'Dodge! Now!' _He quickly jumped to the side, but forgot that the stairs did not have any kind of railing. He landed hard several meters below with a thud, and heard the boulder crash a ways away. Slightly dazed, he shook his head to clear the stars from his eyes. He stumbled back up the stairs he had fallen down and back to the level he had originally been on._

_The boulder had certainly left its mark. The wall that was once behind him had been obliterated, and the room inside was now illuminated. He deduced that this was the room he had seen through the bars earlier. Knowing that there was nothing dangerous inside, he walked through the improvised entryway._

_It looked like any other prison cell, moldy bricks and pests and all that. It was what was in the previously unseen corner that caused him to blink. Lying in a very uncomfortable looking bed of rubble and looking severely injured was the knight that had given him the key. The Prisoner began to walk towards his savior. The knight heard footsteps, and turned his head towards him, attempting to lift his sword in defense. But it was too heavy, or he was too weak. Upon seeing the Prisoner however, he visibly relaxed, and stopped his feeble attempts at picking up his weapon._

"_Oh, you. You're no hollow, eh? Thank goodness. I'm done for, I afraid. I'll die soon, than loose my humanity. You and I, were bot Undead… hear me out, will you?" _

_The Prisoner had not spoken to another sane being for an eternity. He was not sure what to do in this sort of situation, but he owed his life to this man, and he would honor the knights dying wish. He spoke with a soft and raspy voice._

"_Of course."_

_He was sure that the Knight was smiling slightly underneath his helmet._

"_Regrettably, I have failed in my mission. But perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family. 'Thou who art Undead art Chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know.'" The knight slumped into his bed of bricks, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders._

"_Well, now you know. And I can die with hope in my heart. Oh and one more thing… here, take this." The Pilgrim carefully took the strange golden bottle from the Knight._

"_An Estus Flask, an Undead favourite. Oh, and this." He held a key out, which the Prisoner gingerly took out of his hands._

"_Now I must bid farewell. I would hate to harm you after death… so go now… and thank you." He leaned his head back, accepting his doomed fate. Before he could close his eyes however, the Prisoner spoke once again in his small and quiet voice._

"_What … what is … your name?"_

_The knight inclined his head in slight question, before shrugging off his confusion and stating simply, "Oscar. Oscar of Astora. What may I call you?"_

_What was his name? He had long since forgotten whatever life he had before his Undeath. A moment of thought later, and he had his answer ready._

"_I was … a Prisoner. But … I have been … freed by … a friend. Now I … I am …" His grip on his sword and shield tightened with newfound resolve and purpose._

"_I am a Pilgrim."_

_Oscar nodded in understanding. Once again reclining his head back, with greater affirmation that his journey had not been for nothing. Oscar heard footsteps retreating in the distance as he closed his eyes. Before he could shut them he heard a voice, the source of it standing at the threshold of the entrance, with its head just barely tilted towards the Knight._

"_Thank you … Oscar."_

_With these words ringing in his ears, Oscar closed his tired eyes, and rested at last._

-End Flashback-

That had been his reason for going on this quest. It had been his motivation to fight the demons and monsters he faced. He had done it all for Oscar. To honor his memory, to make sure that Oscar's demise and terrible fate had not all been in vain. It had been his only reason, until now.

Now he had a new reason, and one that he could give himself to wholeheartedly. He had been powerless to stop Oscar's slow plunge into eventual insanity, but now he was strong. His previously rusted scimitar had been polished, sharpened, and reinforced ten-fold; his rotten wooden shield had been exchanged with a strong metal Crest Shield, capable of blocking even magical attacks. He had even found a set of armor similar to Oscar's, and he found it fitting to where it in his place.

He had raised his stamina through grueling training and conditioning, and now he could block the onslaught of a Black Knight with ease. He had learned new techniques and ways to wield his arsenal of weapons, from his cross bow to his throwing knives. He was a genius. He could come up with new strategies against unforeseen enemies and utilize their weaknesses in an instant.

Where once he was weak, now he was strong. He would continue honoring his first friend's name and ideals, but now he could strive for a goal that was concrete. He would work towards a purpose that he knew he could achieve. All other questions faded, and he had only one left. He spoke with a strength that had never been in his voice before. It was a voice that through all else demanded an answer, and nothing less.

"Will there be Humanity?"

Kingseeker Frampt was taken aback, he had assumed this creature before him to be introverted and easily frightened. Then Frampt realized that this was the way he could have this Undead do whatever he asked. So with a sinister smile that went unseen by the Pilgrim, he replied.

"More than you can possibly imagine."

That was the only answer the Pilgrim needed to hear.

'_My Fate is to care for the Fair Lady above all else. Anything other than that is one of two things. A way to fulfill my covenant faster, or a barrier that will be destroyed.'_

Once again he spoke with a sense of certainty that was rare for another person to hear from him.

"Tell me where to start."

**Boy, I love me some good ol' fashion feels. Don't you just love it? I know I do. Oscar was such a bro. He gets you out of the cell. That's cool enough. Than he gets smashed through a fucking roof, and even after that he gives you the key outta there and your most important healing items. And what does he get for it? Jack shit, that's what. **

**Meeting Frampt scared me shitless in my game, and I think that was what it was like for a lot of people. I also hated him and Kaathe with a passion. They were manipulative and they had the gall to look down on me with those pretentious little mustaches.**

**Oh, and thanks for the warm welcome (Especially you ParagonEmil and Holsch)**

**And remember kids!**

**If you don't comment, I'll cut you!**


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